“More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. Her parents left two weeks later, the weather still fine. “I remember when you walked me home. And nothing to tell her where to begin. You will go to London?” “It is necessary,” she answered. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket.
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